“Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”
— Omar Khayyám (Rubaiyat)

I’ve been a little obsessed with Omar Khayyám quotes since I stumbled upon Keith Olbermann‘s response to Prop 8–a clip I should have watched a long, long time ago. It made me cry, for many reasons, and I thought the quote he wrapped everything up with summed up so many things for me.

“So I be written in the Book of Love; I do not care about that Book above. Erase my name, or write it as you will, So I be written in the Book of Love.”

But there are plenty of other lovely, lovely words. Indulge me and read.

“Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.”

“I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And by and by my Soul return’d to me,
And answer’d: ‘I Myself am Heav’n and Hell”

“Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and–sans End!

Alike for those who for To-day prepare,
And those that after some To-morrow stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
“Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.”

A friend recommended that I check out www.thisibelieve.org today. I’d heard of it before and have read a few of the essays. You could spend hours on that site. There are a lot of thought-provoking ones, like this one and this one and this one. And I’ve always adored this one. After reading a few I thought I’d start compiling my own list, because a lot of times my own rambling thoughts don’t make sense until I get them down on paper. It’s a work in progress.

I believe life should be lived with all five senses at attention.

I believe that we are innately good, but that goodness must be fostered.

I believe retaining one’s idealism and optimism is hard work — maintaining low expectations so as to not be disappointed is taking the easy way out.

I believe the definition of “wrong” or “sinful” is anything that harms or tears another person down. One should strive to build other people up. It’s that simple.

I believe wars are not the answer, but will never be avoided without education and open-mindedness.

I believe differences should be celebrated, not converted.

I believe laughter heals the soul, and keeps one youthful.

I believe happiness is a choice, not a circumstance.

I believe that life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans. (Thank you, John Lennon.)

I believe that however well-intentioned, religion often creates a lack of social responsibility.

You know, I’m not even going to call this a guilty pleasure. I have no feelings of remorse about it, because after a long day – and there have been a few of those lately – the only fool-proof way of setting my mood straight when I get home is a long, hot bath. And I’m talking loooong. Like, soaking long enough to get my fingers and toes all pruny and then adding more hot water.

Some days I’ll drink hot tea during, sometimes wine, sometimes a cocktail. Sometimes I’ll burn a candle, or add bubbles, or salts, or oils. Or maybe all of them.

Some days I’ll listen to music during, and sometimes all I want to hear is the rushing of the water. When I like accompaniment, it’s usually something light-hearted and girlie, like Life by the Cardigans or Youth Novels by Lykke Li (a new favorite).

And sometimes – embarrassing though it may sound – it’s the soundtrack to Something’s Gotta Give. Sounds horribly campy, and maybe it is, but it’s a fantastic mix of late 50s/early 60s pop and old French standards. And honestly, does it get any better than Louis Armstrong singing La Vie En Rose?

(There’s an unfortunate cover of the same song by Jack Nicholson at the end of the album. I generally try to forget that one).

For the most part I read during baths – my books and magazines are notoriously crinkly and water-marked as a result. But sometimes all I want to do is completely submerge my head in the hot water and hide from everything.

I’m not sure what it is that makes baths so comforting. Is it the sounds? The smells? All sensations combined? Enveloping oneself in such warmth is rather womb-like, I suppose.

But no matter the combination of accessories or additives, a long bath is an instant cureall to whatever ails me. Maybe that’s why the boy doesn’t complain when I disappear for hours at a time …

I was reading one of my favorite blogs yesterday, and followed the above link to an article so tragic, with such vivid imagery, that I may never forget it. I felt compelled to share it here. I’m having a hard time describing the physical reaction I had while reading it; I’ve settled upon somewhere between wanting to cry, punch something, and throw up. (And if that won’t sell you on a read, then what will?)

It’s a heartbreakingly powerful story, beautifully written, but not exactly a pleasurable one. It certainly falls into the category of touch, as in WE ALL NEED IT. Please read…